The Devil's Mistress (A Dracula Untold Fanfic)
by CatherineBelmont
Summary: 400 years after the events of Dracula Untold, Vlad's dark side has finally won over. But when a woman that so closely resembles the one he once loved crosses his path, things might change once more.
1. 3 May – Bistritz

I left Munich on the 8:35 pm train on the 1st of May, and arrived at Vienna early the next morning; then I continued to Budapest.

The Hungarian capital seems to be a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale.

During supper, a handsome gentleman sent a bottle of champagne to my table, which I accepted, even though I refused his invitation to spend the night with him, despite the handsome sum he offered me.

I enjoy the few days of respite, for once not in the company of a man who was purchased my services and who I am obliged to please every waking moment. And so I have taken some time to study the lands where my next… benefactor is waiting for my arrival.

Transylvania lies in the extreme east of the Kingdom of Romania, just on the borders of three states, Hungary, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian Mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map the exact location of Castle Dracula, but to my delight I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place.

From what I have read, I know that Romania has a turbulent history, marked by its continuous wars with the Hungarians to the West and the Turks to the South. But the landscapes and especially the Transylvanian alps are described as some of the most beautiful in existence.

Given that I would have to deal with a nobleman of that country, I have read a little on the customs and traditions of the Romanians, but could find little of use, apart from the fact that every known superstition in the world seems to be gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians – as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting.

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams, which left me both afraid and aroused – and for a moment I even regretted to have declined the offer from the handsome gentleman at the table, for in that moment I would have gladly lost myself in whatever pleasures I could have found in his arms.

Towards the morning I must have fallen asleep, for I was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door. I dressed in a fine gown made of midnight blue silk, and put on my fur hat and muff, for despite the season, it was chill outside.

I had for breakfast only a glass of champagne, and then made my way to the train station. The Count had arranged for me an elegant cabin, where I could travel in solitude and quite astounding comfort.

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind: There were small towns and ruined castles on the top of steep hills, rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods.

At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through Germany and Austria, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, even handsome and for a moment I wondered what it would be like to kiss one of these pretty men.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier—for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina—it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago, a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight to be quite elegant and luxurious, despite its small size.

I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress—white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty.

When I came close she bowed and said in excellent French, "You are Mademoiselle Bisset?"

"Yes," I said, "I am Margot Bisset."

She looked at me for a moment, her eyes tracing sceptically over my rather revealing décolletage. I bore the inspection with quiet dignity, I was – after all – quite used to it.

"Mademoiselle, it is cold, and in your attire, you will freeze do death," she said finally, unable to hide the faint tone of disapproval from her voice.

I told her in the most charming manner that I was used to dress in that manner, and that not even the coldest winter would sway me from following the rigorous dictate of Parisian fashion.

My response put a frown on her brow, and she ushered me instantly to my rooms – which are very comfortable – where she gave me a letter that my benefactor had sent.

_My Lady,_

_Welcome to the Carpathians._

_I am anxiously expecting your arrival. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will depart for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me._

_I trust that your journey from Paris has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land._

_Vlad Dracula, Count of Fagaras._


	2. 4 May

I found that my landlady had received a letter from the Count, instructing her to secure the best place on the coach for me.

When I made some inquiries about the Count and Castle Dracula, my landlady looked at me in a frightened sort of way and crossed herself. When I asked her what the matter was she pretended that she could not understand my French, even though, until that very moment, she had spoken it almost to perfection.

It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting.

Just before I was leaving, my landlady came up to my room once more and said in a very hysterical way:

"Must you go? Oh! My dear Mademoiselle, must you go?"

She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what French she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that the Count was expecting me, that indeed he had purchased my services in advance, she asked again:

"Do you know what day it is?"

I answered that it was the fourth of May.

She shook her head as she said again: "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?"

On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?"

She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous, but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.

She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not want to accept it, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.

I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.


	3. 5 May – The Castle

I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.

When the calèche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight.

I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine with terrible ease if he had chosen.

Then he took out my coffers, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me.

What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the sun shining in through the windows, waking me after a long night in the company of one or the other admirer.

It was the sound of footsteps approaching behind the great door that snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.

Within, stood a very handsome man, tall and lean, with piercing green eyes, dark hair and sharp, clear-cut features. He was dressed in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.

He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door.

"Count Dracula?" I asked, for I was not sure if he was indeed my client, or perhaps just one of the Count's retainers.

"Indeed, I am. Welcome to my home, _Mademoiselle_," he said, inviting me in with a courteous gesture of his hand.

Despite his friendly words, the expression in his eyes remained cold, haughty, almost arrogant. As courtesan and thus a woman experienced in such matters – they told me all I needed to know about him.

Men like him were easy to please, for what he and those like him desired was a docile, submissive slave, a woman to serve and admire them. Many of them enjoy inflicting pain, others simply craved control, I would soon find out which one it was in his case.

I rewarded him with a shy smile, and stepped into the cavernous entrance hall, whose marble floors sprawled out to high walls adorned with the most breath-taking murals I had ever seen.

For a moment, I was lost in my silent astonishment, for never would I have expected to find a house of such astonishing beauty in such a remote place. It was only when the Count took my hand, and brought it to his lips that I was snapped out of my silent reverie.

When his lips brushed lightly against the back of my hand, I noticed suddenly how cold they were, like ice — like the kiss of death. In his eyes I could see that he sensed my discomfort, and more – that he enjoyed it. The realisation made me shiver with not a little unease.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation, my Lord." I said, doing my best to hide my unease.

"The pleasure is indeed all mine, Mademoiselle," the Count replied, leading me across the vast hall, then along the passage, and then finally up a great winding staircase to a balustraded gallery, on whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of the gallery he threw open a heavy double door, and led me into the well-lit room beyond.

The room was of considerable size, with great beautiful windows that must offer a splendid view out over the mountain scenery during the day. In a mighty hearth burned a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, flamed and flared. Bouquets of white roses had been placed on the tables, and their creamy colour matched wonderfully with the light green upholstery of the elegant ebony furniture.

To the right, another set of doors stood open, beyond which I could see the edge of a bed. At its foot I saw – to my astonishment – stood my luggage. The Count's must indeed run a strict regime in his household, with quiet and diligent servants.

"These rooms are at your disposal for the duration of your stay," the Count said. "You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, you may join me in the rooms at the end of the gallery."

The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I washed and made use of the most wonderful toiletries – rosewater, bergamot and sandalwood – that had been left in my rooms, no doubt at the Count's orders.

I dressed myself in the silk undergarments that I had purchased only days ago at the Champs-Élysées. I did not put on a corset, for it would only be a hinderance when I undressed for the Count. Over it, I slipped the elegant blue-green dress whose plunging neckline did little to hide my charms, and fastened the golden clasp at the front. When I turned in front of the tall Venetian mirror, I admired once again the ingeniousness of the seamstress who had designed this particular piece of my wardrobe: A dress that was wrapped around the body like a nightgown and which, just like the oriental garments that inspired it, could be opened with a single flick of the wrist. Now I will go to join the Count.


	4. 5 May – The Count

When I entered the vast rooms at the end of the gallery, I found the Count standing on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, inviting me in with a careful gesture of his hand.

The room, like everything else in the castle was of astonishing beauty, with a great domed ceiling that span at least fifty feet from side to side. At the centre of the room, a large table had been quite splendidly arranged.

"Please, Mademoiselle, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already."

Then he himself came forward and poured some of the most excellent champagne I had ever tasted into an elegant, narrow goblet that was wrought from solid gold.

"That you, my Lord, but like you, I do not sup, however I will not refuse the pleasure of a glass of champagne," I replied, taking my glass and, instead of sitting down at the far end of the table, where the Count had intended to have me seated, I walked up to his place and sat down in the chair beside it.

Physical proximity always made matters easier on a first encounter.

The Count, apparently pleased by my actions, smiled quietly and sat down beside me. While I was sipping my champagne, the Count asked me a few polite questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.

While I sipped my champagne, I had now an opportunity of observing him in the full light, and found him to be a man of quite remarkable magnificence.

The features of his face were strong and clear-cut, like the statues of the Greeks. The bridge of his nose had the faintest aquiline curve, that gave his face quite a regal appearance. His hair was dark, almost black, and his eyebrows – of the same colour – were elegantly curved.

His mouth was sensual, gently curved, but somehow had a cruel streak to it. This somewhat displeasing aspect about him was mirrored in his eyes that – despite their soft green colour that reminded me of moss after a long rainy day – were hard and cold.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white, and very elegant. When he moved them as he spoke, there was a hypnotic quality about the gentle, slow unfurling of his long fingers – almost like a magician performing a particularly wonderous trick in the theatres of _Montmartre_.

However, when from time to time, when he did not speak, he seemed to fall into an odd stillness, and when he sat thus, the little movements that I usually observed in others were entirely missing. And in these moments he seemed as lifeless as a statue.

I could not repress a shudder upon realising this. The Count, evidently noticing my discomfort, stood; and with a grim sort of smile, held out his hand to me.

"Come, _Mademoiselle_, the night is getting late and you must rest a little after your long journey."

I had not expected him to send me off to bed with at least sampling what he had purchased for such a handsome price, and I did not want him to be dissatisfied with his investment in me. And so I rose, and quite boldly, placed my hand on his chest, and whispered in his ear.

"But I do not want to sleep yet."

He laughed very softly, a low, pleasant sound that somehow put me at ease. "So you wish to stay after all…"

"I do."

He then kissed me, and to my surprise, the lips that had been so cold and devoid of life when I had met him were now warmer, almost as warm as mine. His kiss sent quite pleasant tingles down the back of my legs. As his lips traced over mine, his hand slid lover, first down my neck and then along my sternum, down to the clasp that held my dress together at the height of my waist. And then, with the faintest flick of his wrist, he opened the clasp, and lowered my shoulders a little, to let the dress fall.

From the way he touched me, it was clear that he liked to be in control. So – seeing my first impression of him confirmed – I yielded submissively to his ministrations, and instead of undressing him, began to slowly rid myself of my own undergarments, until I was completely naked.

I always enjoyed this illusion, this playful handing over the power to someone else by baring myself to their eyes without having my partner reciprocate the gesture: In this world of sin and passion, nakedness signified vulnerability, and this was what men like the Count desired.

My boldness seemed to please him, for he deepened our kiss and began to walk me backwards, until I was pressed firmly against one of the great stone pillars that lined the sides of the room. I pressed my body against his and then, very slowly, I trailed my lips along his down his neck, sighing gently against his shoulder.

In that moment, quite unexpectedly, he grasped my arms, spun me around and trapped my wrists behind my back, holding them there with a vicelike grip. Any pretence of meekness and docility fell away from me, as I tried to pull free. But he held me with such terrible ease that, that I should to free myself from iron shackles, I would have had more chance of succeeding.

"Shhh," he whispered gently, shooing me like a spoked horse. "Don't fight me, it is of no use."

I remained silent, for I feared that any response might incite a violent side of his character that I had quite foolishly, not expected of him.

"Do you feel the beating of your heart against your neck, the faint tingle along your spine and down the back of your legs?"

He paused, waiting for my reply. And when I did not give it, he continued.

"This is what fear feels like."

"Please, I beg you…"

"Now, there are the first genuine words that have been spoken tonight. An honest plea," his voice was oddly soft as he spoke, barely more than a whisper. "If I wanted pretence, I would have purchased the services of a common street walker. What I desire from you, Mademoiselle, is honesty. While you are here, every word you utter, every tear you shed, every joyful laugh that comes across your lips, shall reflect that honesty."

"Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Mademoiselle. I have warned you now, so past transgressions are forgiven, future ones shall be punished," he said softly, and then he let go of me.

I turned to him now, still not quite free of fear. My reaction made him smile, a gesture which showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the window I saw the faint glow of the moon outside. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said:

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!"

And seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added. "Ah, Mademoiselle, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter." He smiled. "But you shall learn of such matters in due time. For now, I assume that you must be tired. I wish you to retreat for the night, and tomorrow, once you have acquainted yourself with this place and your role, we shall meet again. And then we shall consume our arrangement."

With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the gallery, and, I slipped out into the gallery and returned to my room. All the while, the wolves were hauling madly outside.

And now, back in my chambers, and wrapped in a long silken nightgown, I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

** Author's Note **

I'm also publishing this book on Wattpad under the username CatherineBelmont - the updates are already ahead of schedule there. So you can read ahead.


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